ver see them."

"Nor shall you!"

"Wait and see. There's another way of twisting the secret from you.
Wait; have patience." Umballa laughed.

And this laughter rang in the colonel's ears long after the door had
closed. What new deviltry had he in mind?

The next morning Kathlyn came into the living-room dressed, for the
first time in weeks. She felt strangely uncomfortable. For so long a
time her body had been free that the old familiar garments of
civilization (are they civilized?) almost suffocated her.

"You are not afraid, Pundita?"

"No, Mem-sahib. Ahmed will have me carried to within a few yards of
the gate, and after that it will be easy to find Durga Ram. Ah,
Mem-sahib, if you but knew how I hate him!"

After Pundita had departed Ahmed brought in the leopard. Kathlyn
petted it and crooned, and the magic timbre of her tones won over the
spotted cat. He purred.

And now they must wait. An hour flew past. Kathlyn showed signs of
restlessness, and this restlessness conveyed itself to the leopard, who
began to switch his tail about.

"Mem-sahib, you are losing your influence over the cat," warned Ahmed.
"Go walk; go talk elephant; and you, Bruce Sahib, go with her. I'll
take care of the cat."

So Bruce and Kathlyn went the rounds of the cages. She was a veritable
enigma to Bruce. Tigers lost their tenseness and looked straight into
her eyes. A cheetah with cubs permitted her to touch the wabbly
infants, whereas the keeper of this cage dared not go within a foot of
it. By the time she reached the elephants a dozen keepers were
following her, their eyes wide with awe. They had heard often of the
Mem-sahib who calmed the wild ones, but they had not believed. With
the elephants she did about as she pleased.

"Miss Kathlyn, I am growing a bit afraid of you," said Bruce.

"And why?"

"I've never seen animals act like that before. What is it you do to
them?"

"Let them know that I am not afraid of them and that I am fond of them."

"I am not afraid of them and am also fond of them. Yet they spit at me
whenever I approach."

"Perhaps it is black art." The shadow of a smile crossed her lips.
Then the smile stiffened and she breathed deeply. For the moment she
had forgot her father, who stood chained to a pillar in a vile cell.
She put her hand over her eyes and swayed.

"What is it?" he cried in alarm.

"Nothing. I had almost forgot where I am."

"I, too. I am beginning to let